


Alexander Hamilton Needs a Break

by lilapollomoved



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Borderline Personality Disorder, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Internal Transphobia, M/M, Panic Attacks, Trans Male Character, there will be more trans characters theyre just real minor, trans!alex
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-14
Updated: 2017-01-10
Packaged: 2018-09-08 12:02:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 12,313
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8844133
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lilapollomoved/pseuds/lilapollomoved
Summary: He wasn't expecting Thomas Jefferson to invite him to spend a month with his family with the condition of being his fake boyfriend. Of course, he wasn't expecting a lot of things that happened in his life to this point.One thing was for sure, though: this was going to be the most stressful month of Alexander Hamilton's life.-----based off father_time's fic christmas with the jeffersons!! please read that before reading this!!title is subject to change





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Momma_Time](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Momma_Time/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Christmas With The Jeffersons](https://archiveofourown.org/works/8720008) by [Momma_Time](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Momma_Time/pseuds/Momma_Time). 



> a spinoff fic dedicated to father_time on their fic "christmas with the jeffersons" which makes me feel things  
> PLEASE read their fic before reading this or else a few of the time gaps wont make any sense and youll be left confused as to what happened in all that time  
> many of alex's thoughts are based off of my own personal experiences as a nonbinary transmasc person please read with that in mind  
> please do not read if any of the tags trigger you !! be safe + thank you for reading!!

Alexander had begrudgingly accepted Thomas Jefferson’s invitation to join him and his family for Christmas as his fake boyfriend. Alexander had gone home and thought about how his life choices had led him to this moment. Alexander had packed what he usually would for a trip, with the unwanted accompaniment of the nagging thought that he’d have to be in the presence of _Thomas-fucking-Jefferson_ for a month. The very thought of having to put up with the man who he considered an enemy for more than their 8-hour union regulated workday was enough to distract him until it was too late and he was in Jefferson’s car and he _remembered_.

How could he have forgotten? It was something that he thought of on a daily basis; it consumed his thoughts and the only suitable and lasting distraction he’d found in all his years was writing. It was something that dragged Alexander back into bed, away from the cold unforgiving world every morning. His sudden realization hit him like a ton of bricks, but he couldn’t let Jefferson see him panic. His pride was too great. Not only that, but if Jefferson knew-

No. He couldn’t let it get that far. He was out of options, though. He’d just have to hide it. He was thankful for his small build and affinity for oversized sweaters and the fact that he somehow managed to pack a binder while forgetting the reason he needed it in the first place astonished him. _Nice going, Alexander_.

The man had let himself fall into a shallow, anxious sleep. When Jefferson took the risk of shaking him awake before they got there for God knows what reason, it took all of Alexander's willpower not to flich. _He can’t know he can’t know he can’t find out-_

“Oi, rise and shine sleeping ugly.” Ok. Insults. He could work with this.

“Am I dying?” Alexander mumbled, aware of his thick accent and thankful for the material of his sweater muffling his voice. He sounded too feminine when he woke up. He sounded too feminine all the time. 

“No. Why would you-” Jefferson began.

“Are we there yet?” Alexander interrupted, habitually lowering his voice a bit.

“No, that’s what I’m-”

“Are you dying? Wait, don’t answer that. Just lemme dream a bit.” He snuggled deeper into his sweater cocoon and attempted to will away his anxious thoughts. _If he died all my bills would get passed_ , he half joked to himself.

Alexander’s peace was interrupted when there was a sharp jab to his side. He hid a squeak behind a groan and whipped around to face his assailant. The smaller man was so frazzled that he missed most of what Jefferson said in the following moment besides “mom” and “coffee”. He surmised that this was enough information.

The next few hours passed with minimal strife, only becoming bumpy when Jefferson asked about his parents. Alexander jokingly shot back, “Tragic backstory can be accessed after you reach level three boyfriend.” _Boyfriend_. He’d only been called _boyfriend_ once up until his girlfriend at the time found out. Now it just felt strange to address himself as such. 

“Speaking of boyfriends,” Jefferson said, missing the small smile that bloomed on Alexander’s face at the mention of the word by looking back at the road, “we can’t keep calling each other by our last names.” 

“Ugh, so I’m stuck calling you Thomas for a month? Shoot me.”

“Shut it, Alex.” Jefferson retorted and Alexander couldn’t help the bout of warmth that spread from his chest out. Yes, he was teasing Alexander. Yes, he hated the name Alex because there were girls named Alex and the name could be easily misinterpreted as female by a stranger. Even with these things, Alexander was glad he wasn’t being called Hamilton. 

Hamilton. _Hamilton_. That was all the solace he’d gotten from his deadname through middle school and high school. He couldn’t change his first name. He’d seen how his foster parents had reacted to people like him in the news, on TV, on the streets. He could go by Hamilton, though. Last names were common identifiers in high school. As soon as he was in college, he changed every possible piece of non-legal documentation he could so he’d stop being called Hamilton and start being called Alexander. When he’d met John and Hercules and introduced himself as Alexander, everything felt right. 

Except nothing ever felt right. His appearance always felt wrong. His voice, his gait, his habits all seemed wrong. He was never able to dissociate himself from what he was always told he was. There was always a cloud of discomfort hovering around himself when he’d hang out with the boys- the _real_ boys. He was never able to consider himself one of them. But when he’d come out to them when they started asking why he couldn’t room with them the following year, they hadn’t changed how they acted around him. It was a comforting memory to think back on.

Alexander was startled out of his thoughts by the prattling of the man next to him. Had he heard Jefferson say he had a library? He decided it’d be best to listen from here on- he was sure he’d missed something important. It was a bad habit he’d developed, spacing out and holding whole conversations completely unaware of them. Probably something to do with the fact that nobody ever listened to him and then expected him to listen to them.

“You’re actually inviting me into your library,” he said, taking a shot in the dark. 

“I know you’re just as much of a bibliophile as I am; one of the few things I don’t have to worry about is you messing any of them up. And books need to be read.  
They’re worthless if they sit on shelves and collect dust.” Bullseye.

After a few more short minutes, Jefferson pulled into a driveway. He was prepared to tell Alexander what they’d discussed, the smaller man figured, so he beat him to the punch.

“I know. Call you Thomas. Your mother will probably have me call her mom. Act like I’m madly in love with you.” Good. He managed to remember some of it. Now he just had to hope Jefferson didn’t quiz him. 

The next moments happened in a bit of a blur. Jefferson got out of the car with Alexander following. Jefferson had two tiny children in his arms (Tiny compared to him, a hybrid of giraffe and human. Normal compared to Alexander). Jefferson called him Lexi, something which he’d have to yell at him for later. Jefferson’s mom hugged her son, and then suddenly _Jefferson’smomwashugginghimohgodohgod-_

Panic flooded Alexander’s system, his limbs going stiff and eyes widening. He wasn’t binding, she’d know, she’d ask Jefferson why he brought a girl home he was going to get found out and _Jefferson would hate him and he’d hurt him and-_

“It takes at least two to hug, dear.” 

Alexander was promptly snapped out of his haze and reached hesitant hands up to rest in awkward fists on her back. When Mrs. Jefferson pulled away, she gave him a knowing smile. If she knew, she wasn’t saying anything now. Alexander counted his blessings.

He quickly found himself well acquainted with the two girls-Mary and Lucy-and was delighted to find that their blunt honesty and sweet demeanors were a welcome distraction. Even better was when he got the chance to embarrass Jefferson despite the fact that it was a made up situation. The red blotting Jefferson’s cheeks was well worth the sudden clap to his mouth. He licked the offending hand and giddily grinned at Jefferson’s disgusted reaction.

“How old are you again?” Jefferson asked, wiping his hand on the assailant’s shoulder.

“Oh, shut it. You like me because I’m young and beautiful anyway.” Alexander shot back, realizing his word choice a second late because _boys aren’t beautiful girls are beautiful_.

“Young? Yes. Beautiful? Eh…”

Alexander was never more thankful for Jefferson’s sharp mouth. What was intended to be an insult ended up making Alexander a bit more comfortable with his slip-up. Jefferson’s sister scoffed and tugged at her brother’s hair. “Oh, be nice to your boyfriend. He’s prettier than you are.” and any sliver of joy Alexander could’ve felt at _boyfriend_ was replaced with discomfort. He’d dug himself into a mental hole he could only use snark to get out of.

“And I get a quarter of the sleep he gets,” Alexander quipped, “I wake up looking this good. Thomas has to work at it… and that bed hair…” he trailed off, smirking at his rival.

“All right, but yours is a rat’s nest.” Jefferson pestered.

“Excuse me? I’ll have you know that-“

“Boys! You’re both pretty. Now come on before I shrivel up in this cold.” They were promptly interrupted and shut up in an instant, though Alexander was sure Jefferson didn’t miss the small smile on his face.

After discussing Alexander’s death, a thought which came to him more often than he’d like to admit, and the idea of Jefferson kissing Alexander was introduced, a thought which made the latter’s stomach curl, the scent of coffee stopped them both in their tracks.

"Please tell me that's dark roast I smell," he grinned, setting Lucy down from his back. "Because it smells like it and I may marry you instead of him Momma." 

Mrs. Jefferson hushed him and gently whapped him on the arm, "None of that now. You're too young, even for my tastes... besides. This is the happiest I've seen my boy in years. I'm hoping you'll be the making of him."

Alexander bit the inside of his cheek and blushed a little, not used to praise and certainly not comfortable with the idea of being the _making of Thomas Jefferson_. But he’d take what he could get. 

The rest of the day continued with as much normalcy as a situation where one is fake-dating one’s intellectual rival for the sake of his mother’s heart could possibly be. Alexander met a bit more of Jefferson’s family, something which made the whole ordeal that much more tolerable. He had his hair braided by an angel and managed to not drift too far into dysphoria territory from the typically feminine hairstyle. This was somewhere in which nobody knew. Everybody saw him as a man. There were no people doing things specifically to bother him or make him dissociate or cause him intense dysphoria. 

He only wondered how long it’d last.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yay thank u for reading !! its been a while since ive written fic   
> my tumblr is autisticgod and my twitter is mastertactLcLan !! feel free to drop by  
> and a big thank you again to father_time for letting me use their fic as inspiration <3


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> alex meets the fam + faces a predicament

"So, Alexander, tell us about yourself. What you do, where you're from, how you met Thomas. You know, the good stuff. Spare us no details. He's been a little tight lipped about you."

The statement was enough to make Alexander flinch, a reaction which garnered a disapproving noise from the girl seated behind him and mangling his hair. Where he was from? He hadn’t even told his not-boyfriend about his unsavory origins so he was much less prepared to tell his family. Hell, John and Hercules didn’t know until their junior year of college. He felt like he’d ruin the Jeffersons’ pure family if he delved too deep into his past.

Alexander realized he was taking too long to come up with a response when Mrs. Jefferson leaned forward on her seat a bit and opened her mouth to speak. He folded his hands in his lap, hiding where he was picking at his cuticles with his nails, and spoke.

"Well, what has he told you so far?" Safe question. It had just enough genuine curiosity in it to sound normal.

"Not everything was nice. In the beginning, he complained to me frequently about what a horrible coworker you were." Jefferson’s other sister, Lucy? responded, "What about you has changed his mind like that?"

Alexander was rendered speechless for a moment. Jefferson talked about him? To somebody other than James Madison? He was all at once flattered and disgusted, walking the line between wanting to know in more detail just what was said about him and not wanting to hear another word on the subject.

"Thomas,” Alexander began, wringing his hands a bit, “had just returned from France. It was the day I was presenting my financial plan, and I was actually excited to finally meet him.” That was mostly truth, though he’d heard of Jefferson’s viewpoints and knew how harshly they clashed with his own. While he was excited and perhaps a bit starstruck, he was more looking forward to tearing this man apart during cabinet meetings.

“I'll admit that I was a bit starry-eyed and then I shook his hand a little too vigorously. And held onto his hand for too long. Honestly, I don't think I've been looking forward to something that much since I was accepted into college." Alexander paused and gave Jefferson a wry smile, "And then this turd just _had_ to open his mouth. I swear I wanted to knock his teeth out within the first hour of knowing him."

Jefferson crossed his arms and leaned back, a look of genuine curiosity crossing his features. "Really? I didn't know you were happy to meet me. I just thought you were an overzealous kid on speed." That got an eye roll out of Alexander.

“Well, yeah. You’re Thomas Jefferson. _The_ Thomas Jefferson. I was a complete fanboy before we met,” Alexander replied, practically able to smell the bullshit he was spouting. Jefferson seemed to believe him, though, “I don't think I've ever had to use the restroom so much, nervous bladder and all. It helped that you were hot as hell."

"Were?" Jefferson nudged Alexander’s back with his foot, "I'm not now?"

"Eh, you have your good days," Alexander waved a hand dismissively, smirk evident in his voice, "Except when you wear that fuchsia coat of yours.” He knew he had to put some kind of compliment in there. Otherwise he’d look like he was just insulting Jefferson for the fun of it (even though he really was). “You always look great in that. I'm sure you could come to work with bedhead, rumpled, enormous bags under your eyes and wearing pajamas, but if you have that coat on over it... Honey, I melt."

"Lucky for you that I brought it."

"Then you won't be able to beat me off with a stick." Alexander turned to stick his tongue out at Jefferson but was interrupted by a tug to his hair with tiny hands. "Ow! Alright, sorry..."

Big Lucy’s husband cleared his throat. Uh-oh.

"And you never said where you're from?" He asked, tone even, eyes on Alexander.

"Um... Un-unimportant." Alexander stuttered, picking his coffee up from the space between his legs and taking a long sip. It’d gone lukewarm by this point and the taste didn’t work for him, but he needed a distraction from this conversation.

"Oh, but honey, everyone's history is important," Mrs. Jefferson offered. Alexander couldn’t look directly at her sympathetic eyes.

"Another time, please. I don't feel comfortable sharing that much with you... haven't even spoken to Thomas about it." The room was silent, save for the whisperings of the two young girls and the ticking of a wall clock. If Jefferson didn’t get to know, his family didn’t get to know. He was already uncomfortable enough having experienced it himself; he wasn’t going to tell these people he’d known for all of three hours about his gruesome past. His father, his mother, his _cousin_ , the foster system- none of it was pleasant to think about let alone tell his enemy’s unfittingly sweet family about. "I'm from an American territory and I don't like anything about my childhood. Leave it at that, for now."

Alexander could feel an uncomfortable weight settle on the room and went back to wringing his hands in the sleeves of his sweater. His mind, usually his greatest weapon, was beginning to work against him. He wanted to avoid thinking about his childhood at all costs lest it dredge up memories better left forgotten. Unfortunately for him, sheer willpower wasn’t enough to stop some of the more unpleasant ones from surfacing.

Mrs. Jefferson didn’t look pleased with this answer but thankfully chose not to comment. Alexander must’ve made some kind of outward sign of distress at his gathering thoughts because Jefferson’s other family members seemed to telepathically communicate with each other – damn weird southerners – and collectively dropped the topic.

Silence hung in the room for another beat, two, three.

"Then what's your favorite color?" Mary piped up.

Alexander let out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding and fiddled with the ends of his sleeves. Thank God for children. "Green. Hunter green, emerald, or forest green. They're all nice colors, in my opinion. Very calming. And I look pretty dang good in green, if I do say so myself." He heard Jefferson snort.

"I like all purples, and Lucy likes blue." Mary supplied.

"Oh really? Do you wear a lot of blues and purples, you two?"

Little Lucy tugged excitedly at Alexander’s hair and he squeaked, all at once hyperaware of his definitely not masculine voice and that he was in fact not binding. A rush of discomfort came over him and he hunched over a bit to make his sweater look baggier. Lucy continued speaking. "I wear lots of blue! I've got Merida and Cinderella's dresses and blue tights."

The following conversation focused on the girls’ and their interests and Alexander was able to get by with a few noises to confirm that he was listening (even though he wasn’t). He wanted to appease the girls but had to focus on bringing his mind somewhere happier so he didn’t up and break down in the middle of the Jeffersons’ living room.

“Really, though, you just seem so…” Lucy’s husband began, diverging from the conversations with the girls.

“Radically different?” Elizabeth supplied after a second. Lucy’s husband nodded.

“Yes, I really do want to know how you two managed to hit it off.” Dammit, Mrs. Jefferson.

Alexander trusted Jefferson to pull something out of his ass – _it’s what he was best at in cabinet meetings, after all_. Alexander laughed quietly at the thought.

He was right- Jefferson bullshitted and Alexander bullshitted right back. He almost felt bad for how easily Jefferson’s family was taking their lies. Or maybe he felt bad for himself for lying to them. He couldn’t really tell. He couldn’t really organize his thoughts.

Alexander pulled his sleeves over his hands and bunched them up as he listened to Jefferson prattle on about his fake crush on him. He was thankful that the conversation had left his background and had instead changed to embarrassing stories about Jefferson which he could file away for blackmail. He made sure to take mental notes.

Eventually, the night wound down and Jefferson announced that the two of them were going to head over to Monticello. Alexander stood from his spot on the floor, praying that Jefferson missed the way he wobbled unsteadily for a second.

Mrs. Jefferson caught them in the doorway. "Nope. You two can stay there on the weekends to enjoy your quiet time but during the week, you both are mine, and you're staying here." Alexander blanched, "Now, you boys keep it down. I don't want to hear what you two are up to." She tittered and all but skipped away, leaving the two alone in the unnecessarily large bedroom.

“I’m sleeping in the bathtub.” Alexander said after a moment of uncomfortable silence.

“I have to object to that.”

“Why?” he asked, grabbing his duffel bag and inching towards the bathroom.

Jefferson heaved a sigh, “If you sleep in the bathtub our cover’s gonna be blown in ten seconds flat. Neither of us wants to do this,” he paused and gestured to the bed, “ _trust me_.”

Alexander weighed his options. He could wait until Jefferson fell asleep and sneak to camp out in the bathtub until morning. He’d already ruled out sleeping on a couch lest somebody were to spot him, so he was left with limited choices. Either way, there was no way he was falling asleep in a bed with Jefferson. He knew how he slept and he’d be latched onto the other man the second he slipped into unconsciousness. Not only that, but he didn’t know Jefferson well enough to trust him while he was sleeping. He didn’t trust him with anything, honestly, but especially not around him asleep.

“Fine,” Alexander finally responded after a beat, “but if you touch me at all I’ll rip your hands off.”

“Believe me, I wouldn’t willingly touch you if you were the last warm body on the planet.”

That made Alexander snort. He made his way into the bathroom and got changed, avoiding the mirror until he was completely changed. He pulled a hoodie over his t-shirt and turned sideways, checking to see how flat he looked in the mirror. Eh, he could hunch over for the short trip from the bathroom. He padded out, clad in polar bear pajama pants and a hoodie that was definitely not his size.

“What _are_ you wearing,” Jefferson drawled from his perch on the side of the bed. Alexander’s nose wrinkled.

“It’s called fashion,” he joked, tensely sitting on the other side of the large bed. _At least there was plenty of space._

Jefferson eyed Alexander’s getup again, laughing to himself a bit at the other’s hideously casual appearance. He felt like he was practically drowning in his hoodie. Was it his hoodie? Probably not. Probably Hercules’.

“Are you always cold?” Jefferson asked, somewhat sarcastic.

"Do you want me to stick my feet on you so that you can find out?" Alexander retorted. That earned him a scoff and an eyeroll.

"Please don't." Jefferson responded, "I cannot be held responsible for my actions if you do it."

The statement made Alexander stiffen up as Jefferson climbed into bed next to him. The smaller man pushed away the thoughts gathering just behind his eyes and made his way under the covers. His body was as close to the edge as it could get without him falling off the mattress. 

It was going to be a long night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for reading !! im on winter break now so hopefully ill be able to get more of this done ?? or at least update more frequently/with more to chapters  
> as always thank you to father_time for letting me deface ur beautiful fic w my hcs  
> please lmk if u find any grammatical or spelling errors !!


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alexander can't sleep. Jefferson's family is nice.  
> Alexander remembers his place.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warning: chapter contains a little internalized transphobia(??) and body envy. be safe !!

That night’s sleep had been anything but restful. Alexander had accidentally let himself fall asleep but woke up around 2 AM because he fell out of the bed in his effort to stay separated from Jefferson. He was grateful, at least, for the fact that he hadn’t latched himself onto Jefferson or vice-versa.

The man groaned and rubbed at his leg- there would definitely be a bruise come morning. Leave it to Thomas Jefferson to have solid oak wood floors and no area rugs. Alexander grumbled quietly, now wide awake. He needed to find something to occupy his mind for the next hour at least, otherwise he wouldn’t get to sleep again. 

He spent the next few minutes rummaging around in his duffel in the pitch darkness of the room for a book only to realize he’d need a source of light to actually read it. He cursed his sleep-addled mind and fruitlessly searched for his reading light. Dammit, he’d forgotten it at home.

Clouds cleared from in front of the moon long enough for a candle to reveal itself on the desk in the corner. It was vanilla scented, bless Mrs. Jefferson, and Alexander used the open box of matches next to it to light it. He opened his book and began to read.

The next thing he knew, he was wrapped around a very solid source of heat. In his sleepy haze, he failed to register exactly what this heat source was. The only thing he knew was that this wasn’t his book and he wanted to sleep more. Within a few seconds of this thought, he was unconscious again.

An indefinite amount of time later, Alexander found himself draped over and around the bunched-up comforter. Jefferson was gone. The sleepy pile dragged himself into an upright position, blinking a few times and rubbing his eyes. He glanced at the clock: 8:24. It was late considering he usually woke up by 5:30 to get to work by 7.

Suffice to say, Alexander wasn’t expecting what he saw next. It was Jefferson, which he was assuming he’d see, but that was where the predictability ended because _holy shit_ the man was built like a god.

To say that Alexander had body envy was the understatement of the year. He felt himself staring but couldn’t tear his eyes away. Sure, he wouldn’t deny (to himself, at least) that he found the man in front of him attractive, but his stare was one of jealousy rather than admiration. There was no mistaking _Jefferson_ as a woman. With this physique, anyone would be considered mad to think him a woman. His eyes trailed from Jefferson’s square jaw to his toned abdomen, unable to look anywhere else in the room. It wasn’t until his eyes drifted lower that he snapped himself out of his envious stupor and whipped his gaze up to meet Jefferson’s. He was ready to both punch the cocky smirk off the man’s face and bawl, though he gathered the latter was the worse of two options. The desire to punch Jefferson versus the desire to cry fought in Alexander’s head. Jefferson spoke, hand on his hip and upper body leaned forward.

"Like what you see?"

Alexander let out an inaudible whimper and looked down at his lap, hands wringing in the space of his sleeves. _Not on you,_ he thought to himself, _I wish I could have what you have. I wish people would always look at me and_ know _that I’m a man instead of guessing or being confused. I bet you never get asked if you’re a man or a woman. I wish I could look like you and be accepted like you._ But all he said was, “Shut it.”

He took the second Jefferson had to laugh to himself at Alexander’s assumed flustered muttering to get himself out of the mess of sheets and blankets he’d gotten himself into and slink out of the room with his clothes for the day. When Jefferson called "Heh, not a chance. Feel free to keep looking. I know, I'm an Adonis. Want me to flex too? I would be happy to,” at him as he walked to the bathroom, Alexander flipped him off, earning another laugh. _It seemed all Jefferson did was laugh at him._

Alexander locked the bathroom door and sat on the closed toilet seat. He took a moment to breathe, to run his hands through his hair which had fallen out of its braid at some point during the night. This place wasn’t good for him and it’d only been a night. He couldn’t imagine being here for the rest of their planned stay. Maybe he could make up some kind of family emergency. It wasn’t like Jefferson knew he didn’t have a family outside of the Washingtons, so it was something he could get away with.

It wasn’t until Jefferson banged on the door with his fist that Alexander was started from his scheming. Another time, then.

“Hurry up, princess,” Jefferson taunted through the door and Alexander whimpered, “Ma’s making breakfast and _some of us_ have appearances to keep up.” Alexander wasn’t sure if he meant their fake-dating or Jefferson’s beauty regimine.

Alexander cleared his throat and took a breath. “Calm down, Jefferson. It takes time to look this good.” Jefferson just snorted and dragged his hand down the door, knocking his hand against the doorknob and making Alexander jump. He really needed to work on being less skittish.

He changed quickly, feeling a rush of relief when he looked in the mirror to see a flat chest. He was _really_ thankful he managed to pack a binder, though he’d need to find a way to discreetly clean it in about a week. He brushed his teeth, combed his fingers through his hair, and so on.

Today’s getup was another sweater, of course, but Alexander strutted out of the bathroom with a new air of confidence. He passed significantly better, or at least that’s what he told himself. Jefferson, now thankfully dressed, let his gaze follow Alexander across the room.

“Did you bring anything other than sweaters?” Jefferson asked.

“My pajamas.” Alexander said, passing Jefferson and heading for the stairs. Jefferson followed.

“About time you lovebirds show up.” Big Lucy teased from the kitchen.

Alexander smiled a bit uncomfortably at the implications and turned to the children, scooping them up and giving them both kisses on the cheek.

"Oh dear. Kissing the princesses didn't turn me back into a prince!" He grinned.  
"There ya go! Prince Alex is back!" The girls giggled as they both kissed him on the cheek in reply.

Lucy’s face contorted into one of determination, "No! Uncle Tommy has to. True love." Mary thought for a second and then nodded in agreement.

Alexander flushed, less embarrassed about having to kiss Jefferson and more disgusted, "I don't think your uncle would... I mean... there are you guys around, and we're..." Alexander grabbed a glass and filled it with water, sitting down at the table.

"Nope! Uncle Tommy has to." Mary added.

Jefferson leaned down and grabbed Alexander’s chin, pressing a quick kiss to his lips. Alexander’s face got redder, if that was possible. 

"Oh, what was that, Tommy? It's a wonder he's still with you when you kiss like that. Terrible," Mrs. Jefferson supplied, giving Jefferson a light smack to the arm.

"That's alright ma’am, I'm..." Alexander licked his lips and took a big swallow of water.

"He's not into PDA," Jefferson cut in, "For a man so flirty, he's shy when it comes to following through on his teasing around others." 

"Hush and go make me coffee, jerk." Alexander stuck his tongue out and sipped his water, shooting what he hoped came off as a joking glare at the other man. Jefferson obliged and Alexander took the time to get himself some food.

“Now, Alex, honey, why haven’t you taken any bacon?” Mrs. Jefferson looked disappointed.

"I don't eat pork, ma'am."

"I thought you did last—"

Alexander rubbed the back of his neck, "No. That was your boy." Mrs. Jefferson huffed.

"No wonder you're so scrawny! You don't get your meat! You need meat on your bones."

"Ma, it's not because he doesn't pork. It's because he just doesn't eat at all." Jefferson supplied and Alexander shot him a glare. It wasn’t like he wanted to be this tiny and it certainly didn’t help him pass.

"What? Thomas, are you starving this poor boy? I know I taught you how to cook," Mrs. Jefferson tsk’d.

"Ma, it's not my doing. He does it to himself. I'm not the only one that's tried to force feed him. His friend John is the worst, I believe." Alexander half scoffed, half snorted. "What?"

Alexander took another swallow of his water, "I didn't know you had paid attention to him."

"Of course I pay attention to him. I pay attention to all of them." Alexander figured he should shut up because he was making it seem like Jefferson didn’t know anything about his friends. Even if in reality he didn’t, they needed to keep up their ruse.

"You still need to feed him a little more. He's skin and bones! Here. We're going to fatten you up while you're here."

Alexander paled at the heaps of grits Mrs. Jefferson was piling onto his plate. There was more on his plate than he usually ate in a day, sometimes two.

"Ma’am, no. It'll only go to waste. I can't eat that much." Eventually, through the next few moments, Alexander conceded to taking another biscuit. When Mrs. Jefferson nudged the gravy in his direction, though, Alexander had to object. "Do you make it from scratch with the bacon grease?"

Mrs. Jefferson seemed offended by the question. "Of course it's made from scratch. I wouldn't dare have anything else served at my table and-"

"Ma’am, the bacon grease comes from pork fat. I don't eat that." Alexander smiled politely and reached for the honey. "I'm sorry. I thought Thomas would have told you." He looked at Jefferson, not expecting to see the look of ‘wow I really dodged a bullet there’ present on the other man’s features. Alexander blinked in confusion for a second until the other man spoke up.

"So, Ma, what's on the agenda today?" Jefferson asked, eyes flitting back to Hamilton for a second, so quickly that Alexander wasn’t sure if he imagined it or not.

"There's a Christmas tree farm about thirty or so minutes from here. We had planned to drive up together and pick one out for here and Tommy, you and Alex can go pick one out for Monticello. I know you two will be going there tonight for the weekend so I believe it would be nice to grab it while we're out."

Alexander smiled and took a mouthful of grits, “Sounds like a plan.” A plan, or at least a reason to get a moment away from Jefferson’s family so he didn’t have to pretend to not hate the man.

. 　　 · 　 ⊹ 　　 　　　　　　　 . 　 · ✦ 　　　 ✹ 　　　　 　　　　　 ⊹ ˚ 　　　　.　　 · 　 　. ✺ 　 　　 ˚ 　　　 + 　 　　 ✫ .　 . ✵ .

Shopping went out without a hitch, though Jefferson interrogating Alexander about his medication certainly didn’t add anything to his day. That and the fact that Jefferson had tried to ask about his origins again. _Jefferson's really putting his best foot forward_ , Alexander thought sarcastically.

After a few hours in the bitter cold- something which Jefferson teased him about- Alexander was ready to be done with winter altogether. The taller man had even tightened Alexander’s scarf around his mouth as he tried to complain, saying something about how ‘Complaining won’t make this any better for either of us’. While Alexander had to disagree, he wasn’t really gunning to getting strangled by a scarf when he’d only arrived in Virginia yesterday.

With help from Elizabeth and the girls, Alexander found some house decorations, lights and such, and set to work putting them up. He’d already had a confrontation with Elizabeth in the attic and he was feeling the slightest bit panicky. He tried to let the domestic bliss of the situation distract him, but the feeling in the pit of his stomach told him he didn’t belong. He needed an escape- the library.

They wouldn’t notice his absence anyway.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yay thank u for reading !! this took me a few days to write and its 3 am so if u see any spelling mistakes or a sentence that doesn't make sense please let me know !!  
> i let this get too wordy too...... im sorry this chapters so big lmao  
> and yes that break thingy near the end is from the tiny star fields twitter


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> an in-between chapter that ive been putting off for like two weeks  
> im sorry the bit at the end of the last chapter never got resolved but i have 3k words of the next two chapters done and ready to post so i just needed this buffer here

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TRIGGER WARNINGS FOR THE FOLLOWING:  
> past child sexual abuse, past transphobia, mentions of self harm  
> be safe please and dont force yourselves to read anything that makes you uncomfortable!!!!!!

Over the course of the next few days, Jefferson and Alexander bonded and reached a level of something akin to friendship, though sometimes Alexander noticed Jefferson doing things that were a bit more on the “boyfriend” side of things than anything. 

While he was gradually growing more tolerant of Jefferson, he also grew a bit more fearful. With increasing comfort around Jefferson came the likelihood of slipping up, of saying something that would tip Jefferson off; and then what would happen? Would he get kicked out and forced to find his way back to New York City himself? 

Jefferson had learned things about Alexander that he didn’t want anybody to know- he knew about his medication, his insecurities regarding family spaces and his belonging in them. Jefferson knew things that he could use against Alexander in cabinet debates. Or worse, Jefferson knew things that he could use to mentally destroy Alexander and create a personal hell for him.

It wasn’t like he wanted him to know any of this, though, and every day spent in Monticello along with every new thing Jefferson learned about him made him regret agreeing a week prior. As more and more of Jefferson’s family showed up, especially the teenage cousins, Alexander began to get more uncomfortable. Teenagers had seen through him before, so how could he expect these ones, related to Jefferson and likely with his quick wit and astuteness, to behave any differently?

His fears were proven valid when they brought up the subject of sex. Sex was not nor had ever been a subject Alexander felt comfortable about. Sex was the reason he had uniform, perfectly spaced scars lined up his arms and thighs, the reason he had "GIRL" carved sloppily into the space between his shoulder blades. Sex was the reason he hid himself under layer upon layer of blankets and t-shirts and sweaters. Sex was the reason he hopped from foster home to foster home in search of somebody who would accept him as he was and not try to _fix_ him. And now, sex was the reason he was on the verge of tears as Jefferson’s cousins teased him.

“Come on, you can tell us,” they laughed with no ill will but an impact nonetheless. 

“Well? Go ahead, Lexi. What do you think about me?” Jefferson prompted with a smirk when Alexander didn’t respond. He cringed at the nickname and balled his hands into anxious fists beneath the table. His nails dug into his palms and breathing was starting to get difficult.

“I’m not having this conversation with a bunch of minors,” he stood up abruptly, chair screeching a bit as it dragged on the wood floor, “I’m going to take a shower.” And with that he left, Jefferson shrugging at the inquisitive looks his cousins sent his way and getting up to follow Alexander at a distance.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yay yay yay thats done and over with  
> ill post the next chapter tomorrow probably  
> tumblr is autisticgod, twitter is mastertactLcLan


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> thomas does an oopsie and alexander highkey panics

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tw for: internalized transphobia  
> be safe !! love u

All Alexander wanted to do was have some time to himself. The situation was becoming increasingly uncomfortable and he needed to escape, even though Jefferson’s family was going somewhere as a group in about a half hour and he and Jefferson would be there alone for a while. The shower seemed like his best bet, but he was frozen with fear when he heard the door open and close. 

He forgot to lock the door.

He guessed it was Jefferson from the fact that everyone else in this family seemed too polite to do much of anything without asking or at least a warning. That scared him more.

He strained his ears to hear the other man brushing his teeth as the shower water slowly turned tepid. He couldn’t move- hadn’t since Jefferson barged into the bathroom. When he heard his electric toothbrush turn off, he expected the door to open and close once more. 

Apparently, he and Jefferson didn’t see eye to eye on this issue either because he heard the toilet seat close and Jefferson sit down. Fuck. He was trapped. He needed to find a way to get Jefferson out of there as soon as possible. He already felt panic rising in his chest when he spoke.

“Can I help you?” Alexander asked cautiously. He really hoped he was imagining the quiver in his voice.

“Nope. You keep doing what you’re doing.” Jefferson replied and if Alexander wasn’t about ready to have a breakdown he’d have half a mind to punch the other man. “This _is_ my bathroom, y’know.”

Alexander bit his lip and ran his hands through his wet hair, forehead against the front of the shower and breathing increasingly unsteady. _Fuck fuck fuck fuckfuckfuckfuck he’s gonna find out he’s gonna know and he’s gonna hurt me and hate me and his family’s gonna hate me and fuck fuck fuck I don’t wanna die yet I wanna go home I wanna be safe please leave please please please leave._

“What the hell did I do in any past life to deserve this…?” he muttered to himself, hands shaking. The water went cold.

He didn’t realize Jefferson had heard him until he replied with “Probably found a way to annoy the hell out of me. I’m cursed with you being a pain in my ass for the rest of eternity.” Alexander would’ve laughed if he had the mental capacity to. 

He replied in turn. “I should give you a reason to call me a pain in the ass.” Sarcasm and cynic were the only ways he was going to prevent himself from having a panic attack right then and there.

“Are you propositioning me for sex?” Jefferson taunted back. Alexander dug his nails into his scalp and took a shuddering breath.

“Hell no. I wouldn’t touch you with a seven-and-a-half-foot pole.” He tried as hard as he could to not sound like he was about to scream. He wasn’t sure how well it worked but if Jefferson’s replies were anything to go off of, it was good enough.

“Hamilton, don’t exaggerate. You’re a small man and probably have a small d-” 

“Don’t,” Alexander ground out, sounding harsher than he intended, “you dare finish that sentence. Now please, _get out_.”

“Geez, sore subject.” Jefferson said and stood up. “You need to get out of the shower. You’ve been in there for what, a half hour?”

Alexander thought Jefferson would get the hint at his silence and leave. Alexander thought that he could at least give Jefferson a little trust after having spent over a week with him and neither of them ending up dead. Alexander thought.

But when was the last time he could trust his own expectations?

Time seemed to stop.

Jefferson figured that Alexander’s initial lack of response was some kind of scheming and decided to put a stop to it before it continued. This meant pulling the curtain open with a glass of freezing water in his hand, intended for Alexander’s head. Said glass slipped out of his hands and shattered on the tile floor. Alexander’s eyes flew open and he let out a terrified shriek.

His brain went into fight-or-flight mode. He chose flight. In his panic, he all but leapt out of the shower, adrenaline muting the intrusion of glass into his foot. Heartbeat thrumming in his ear, he pushed past a stunned Jefferson and out of the bathroom. He slammed the door behind him and dove under the covers, pulling them taut around himself.

His whole body quaked with fear. His foot was bleeding, but he didn’t notice. He didn’t even realize he was crying until he had to take a heavy breath. His exhale sounded more like an animal dying than anything else. _I wanna die I wanna die please kill me right now please please kill me somebody please kill me he knows he knows heknows I’m gonna die I’m gonna die he’s gonna hurt me I’m a freak I’m disgusting he’s going to kill me Iwannadiediediedie-_

“Hamilton…?” Jefferson’s muffled voice was somewhere in Alexander’s sea of thoughts. _No no no please go away please leave me here to die please don’t kill me let me die on my own please._

Once more, “Hamilton,” this time with more strength, then, “Alexander?” He was standing far enough away from the bed that Alexander had to strain his ears to hear him. He didn’t want him to be there he wanted him to _leave_.

Jefferson swallowed thickly, hands shaking. He picked up Alexander’s hoodie where it was sitting on his desk chair and placed it on the corner of the bed, slowly backing up towards the doorway. “I’ll be in the library,” he said slowly, “when you’re ready,” he stopped for a second, thought, and began again, “if it’s ok, I mean, I, uh-. I’ll. Be in the library.”

With the quiet creaking and click of the door closing, Jefferson was gone. Alexander let out a harsh sob and curled tighter into himself. Jefferson wanted him gone. Jefferson wanted that disgrace of a human out of his house immediately and would probably ask Washington to fire him. Jefferson wanted him dead. _Jefferson hated him_. Any and all trust and friendship they’d built up in the last week was gone and Jefferson was going to tell him to get out of his house and never speak to him again. He was going to tell Madison about how Alexander was really a girl and he wasn’t going to fool anyone anymore.

Alexander didn’t know he was going to throw up until he felt the bile sitting right under his throat. Since the last thing he wanted to do right now was sit in a puddle of his own puke, he needed out. He struggled with the wet sheets around him for a moment and when the fresh air of the room tinted with a faint scent of blood hit his lungs, he wretched into the garbage can next to the bed. 

When he finished emptying the contents of his stomach, he tried to get out of the bed. Stepping on hardwood flooring with shards of glass in his foot made him cry out, but his voice was a hoarse wheeze if anything. He needed clothes, first. Then he could try to fix his foot. 

He considered his binder, tucked under piles of folded sweaters in his duffel, but decided against it. His lungs felt heavy enough. The added pressure would just make things worse. He threw on a sports bra and the t-shirt he slept in along with his hoodie that had been moved to the corner of the bed. He grabbed underwear and his flannel pajama pants as well, carefully tugging them on to avoid the blood coming from his foot.

Next item on the list was the aforementioned foot. Thankfully, the pieces that had lodged themselves inside his foot were relatively large. He stuffed the front of the hoodie in his mouth and pulled out the biggest shard, whining weakly into the fabric. He repeated the steps with the following pieces until his foot was just a bloody mess, not a bloody glass-filled mess.

There was a first-aid kit in the top drawer of the left-side nightstand. Jefferson had told him about it the first night they slept there. He almost felt thankful for the other man for a second but caught himself. He was going to kick him out, he couldn’t forget that. He’d go to the library and get told he needed to find his own way home and that he had to be out of the Jefferson household in an hour. With these thoughts in mind, he wrapped his foot in cotton and gauze. He could still taste bile in the back of his throat when he swallowed. 

Alexander decided to give Jefferson less reason to kill him immediately by stripping the bed of its sheets and running the bloodied spots under cold water. He dumped the pile of sheets into the hamper and turned back to the room. There were watered-down bloody puddles leading up to the bed, so he grabbed a wad of toilet paper and cleaned those up.

Lastly was the glass he expected to be on the floor in front of the shower. Jefferson probably picked the shards up after he was done being shocked to stillness, Alexander supposed, so he turned back to the bedroom. He inhaled deeply, then let out a shaky breath. He wasn’t going to tell himself that he could do this because he knew he couldn’t. It was just something he’d have to deal with. He’d have to tell the freaking _President of the United States_ that he’d have to find a new Treasury Secretary. That wasn’t a conversation he was looking forward to. Neither was this one.

He packed what he had back into his duffel, knowing he’d have to let go of a few sweaters that were in the wash. Oh well. It was a small price to pay if Jefferson decided to spare his life. He took one more breath, two, three, four. Counted to nine in French. Pulled his messy hair back into a bright blue hair tie and began for the library.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ive had this written since like. a week before christmas lmao  
> thank yall 4 reading !! next chapter will be up tomorrow probably !! i rly appreciate all the comments and kudos theyre what keep me going !!


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> thomas tries to fix his oopsie and some nice stuff happens

“Jefferson.” 

Thomas looked up from his lap at the man in the doorway. He was disheveled, eyes red with raised scratch marks down from his scalp to his collarbones. Honestly, though, he wouldn’t put it past Alexander to not even realize he’d scratched himself up. 

“Alex-” he began, not missing how the other man flinched at the volume of his voice. He tried again, voice softer. “Alexander. Come in, please, ah, sit down.”

Alexander did as he asked, not speaking a word. His walk was more of a hobble- at least he’d wrapped up his foot. Thomas hoped he actually remembered to take the glass out of his foot beforehand.

They sat in silence for a moment before Thomas realized he was going to have to do most of the talking here. Keeping in mind that he needed to keep his tone gentle, he began.

“Alexander. Are you ok?” 

No response. 

“Sorry. That was dumb to ask. God- fuck- I fucked up, didn’t I.” Thomas sighed and ran a hand through his hair. He didn’t want to make it about himself but that’s exactly what he was doing. “Listen, Alexander. You have every right to be mad at me. I- you can hate me, I can tell my family that this was a ruse and I can take you back up to New York. God- I’m so fucking sorry, I really fucked up-” Thomas stifled a sigh and looked up from his bouncing leg to see Alexander staring at him, wide-eyed. 

For now, Thomas would ignore the scratches visible on the back of Alexander’s hands and disappearing under the cuffs of his hoodie. He would ignore the tears silently falling from Alexander’s eyes, but he couldn’t ignore his fists clenched so tightly that a faint trickle of blood was beginning to come from them. 

“Y-” Alexander rasped, breath catching on the first letter, “don’t y-y-you wa-ant me d-dead…?” Thomas blinked and stood, causing Alexander to recoil and close his eyes, face tilted away. It wasn’t until then that Thomas noticed Alexander’s posture: shoulders and back hunched, knees tightly pushed together, looking absolutely tiny in the overwhelming sweatshirt. He was terrified and it was all Thomas’s fault. He’d have plenty of time to feel sorry for himself later, though. Right now, he needed to help Alexander.

“No,” he finally responded, cautiously seating himself down at the other end of the couch Alexander was sitting on. “I need you to listen to me. Alexander, _please_.”

Alexander looked up, eyes and posture submissive, the look of an innocent man on death row. 

“Alexander,” he started again, “I’m not mad at you. I’m sorry I- what I did was- was horrible and wrong and you have every right in the world to be mad at me. If you want to leave just say the word and I’ll have you on a plane back to New York in an hour. You haven’t done anything wrong. I should’ve respected your privacy, God- I’m sorry. Really, truly, deeply sorry.” He hoped his eyes conveyed his honesty because he knew for a fact that Alexander didn’t trust much of what he said. Why would he? Thomas had been nothing short of horrible to Alexander in the past.

“You-” Alexander wheezed, tears pouring from his eyes but not trembling as badly as he was a few moments ago, “You don’t want to,” he cut off, only now realizing that his hands were bleeding. He let out a dry, tired breath that was supposed to pass for a laugh but turned into a sob. He didn’t even realize that Thomas had taken this time to kneel on the floor in front of him.

“No.” Thomas repeated, “No, I don’t want to hurt you. If anything, you should want to hurt me. I’m sorry, I’m so sorry. Alexander, please look at me.” He obeyed. “Alexander. I’m not mad at you. I’m mad at myself for this. Really. Please believe me. I would’ve never known, never guessed. Elizabeth, she- she’s trans, too.”

Alexander’s breath hitched and his thumbnails stopped digging into his cuticles for a second. Was he lying? Why was he telling Alexander this? Would he tell him this just to get him to shut up? He probably would. But he was being so kind and gentle to Alexander, and his apologies sounded genuine.

“Alexander?” Thomas whispered, offering his hands for Alexander to take, “I’ll talk to her, if you want. I can text her, give her your number, you guys can talk. I- wait. Please tell me you haven’t been binding this whole time.” A shocked Alexander slowly shook his head ‘no’. With steady hands, Thomas took Alexander’s in his own. “Good, because I don’t need you dying on me.”

Alexander let out a puff of air which Thomas assumed was a laugh. He’d ask again later if Alexander wanted Elizabeth’s number, but for now, the two sat in silence. It took more than twenty minutes, but Alexander finally regulated his breathing and calmed the shaking in his hands and legs enough to try and stand up. His attempt was met with failure and he fell back onto the couch with a whine.

“Stay here. Let me get you water, or tea, or something. You don’t sound too good- and you shouldn’t try to lower your voice if you’re able. I’m sorry, I know that’ll be uncomfortable, but your voice will be shot otherwise. And how are you supposed to praise me and fawn over me if you can’t talk? What a shame that’d be.” His tease earned him a weak kick to the shin. 

On impulse, he brought Alexander’s hands to his mouth and pressed a gentle kiss to them before he got up and left for the kitchen. He only let his face redden once he was out of Alexander’s line of vision. The other’s cheeks bloomed red immediately, eyes widened in surprise.

Thomas returned a few minutes later with two mugs in one hand, a pitcher of milk in the other and a first aid kid tucked under his arm. Alexander had managed to quiet his blush in the few minutes Thomas was gone, and his hands reached out not-so-subtly for Thomas’s when he returned. The taller man smiled to himself and set the tea down on the end table next to the couch. He lifted the milk in a silent question and Alexander nodded his head. Thomas poured in what he saw as a suitable amount of milk and stirred it in.

“Before you get tea,” Thomas said, popping open the first aid kit, “let me see your hands.” Alexander sheepishly held his hands out and Thomas took them gently, finding it a little endearing how much smaller they were than his own. They weren’t too badly damaged. There were only little gashes on either hand where his nails had dug into his palms. Thomas covered a cotton ball in peroxide and met Alexander’s eyes in warning before gently dabbing at the wound. Alexander hissed, other hand reflexively closing. Thomas put cotton and gauze on the wound and wrapped the gauze around Alexander’s hand a few times, repeating the same process with the other’s left hand. 

When both hands were done, he handed Alexander the mug of tea. Alexander slowly sipped the hot liquid, eyes meeting Thomas’s as he sat on the floor in front of the couch. The smaller man’s eyes flicked from Thomas to the empty spot on the couch next to him and then back in silent permission. Thomas smiled to himself and sat next to Alexander, the latter immediately leaning the whole of his weight against Thomas. 

Alexander’s eyes fluttered shut and he took another swallow of his tea. He was exhausted, both mentally and physically. Thomas had lit the fireplace earlier, so a comfortable heat enveloped the two of them. No, Alexander hadn’t forgiven Thomas completely, but he was beginning to. At least for what had happened that day. It would take time to forgive all the little incidents of Thomas teasing him for being feminine or about his reservation about his private life.

Eventually, Alexander finished his tea and leaned more comfortably on Thomas. He let himself indulge in the presence of another person’s warmth, at least for now. He thought he deserved it, at least a little. Thomas didn’t want to kill him. Thomas didn’t want to send him on the cold Virginia streets with the shirt on his back to hitchhike his way back to New York City. He had somebody who knew what he was going through. _Thomas didn’t hate him_.

He wondered when they’d moved to a first name basis.

Alexander absently reached for Thomas’s free hand, their fingers intertwining. For now, he’d sleep. He could deal with his emotions later.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> me: i want to be done with this fic  
> me: accidentally writes something that will take a few extra chapters to work out

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW FOR:  
> self-hate, panic attacks  
> b safe loves

It wasn’t until a hour past when the Jeffersons got back that Alexander woke up- Alexander heard noise coming from somewhere else in the house and discerned that Thomas’s family was home. Sure enough, Thomas was still there- he himself had fallen asleep, snoring softly into the quiet room. 

The door to the library was closed and the fire with a healthy supply of wood, so somebody had probably come in at some point and seen the two, replenishing the fire and giving them privacy without disturbing them. Their discarded mugs and the first aid kit were also nowhere to be seen.

It didn’t take much to wake Thomas, just a slight bit of movement as Alexander sat up straight and rolled his shoulders. Their hands were still clasped when he woke up and the skin underneath the gauze was sufficiently sweaty so he took the liberty of reclaiming his hand. His head was still a mess of emotions and as nice as their little bonding experience was, he wasn’t ready to forgive Thomas.

“Alexander,” Thomas said softly, stretching his back and shoulders, “How are you feeling?”

Alexander shrugged and couldn’t meet his eyes. He wanted some time to himself but knew the Jeffersons wouldn’t let him spend a moment alone. His mental fatigue slowed his movements and as he made to stand up, he wobbled a bit. Blood had soaked through the gauze on his foot, his hands were sweating something awful, and he had a headache creeping up behind his eyes. Thomas helped to steady him and offered his arm to lean on as they made their way out of the library.

“There they a- Thomas, what did you do to this poor boy?” Mrs. Jefferson gasped, putting down the coffeepot and rushing over to the two.

“I’m fine, Ma’.” Alexander said though he was decidedly not fine and his voice conveyed it. Mrs. Jefferson sent Thomas a glare and he responded with his own pathetic look. He couldn’t tell her what had happened, not without Alexander’s permission. He had to thank some higher power that Alexander was even ok with his presence at the moment.

“What in God’s good name happened to you?” 

“He’d rather not talk about it, Mom.” Thomas shot her a pleading look that he hoped said ‘please let it be for now’. She gave them both an unreadable look before turning to Alexander.

“If my boy hurts you, sweetie, you tell me right away.” He nodded weakly. It’s not like he was going to take her up on her offer, but the thought was nice. “Good. Now would you boys like some coffee?”

Thomas looked at Alexander before even considering his own thoughts on the matter. They made eye contact for a second before Alexander looked down at his foot then back up at Thomas. The taller man nodded, then looked back up at his mother.

“I’m gonna bring Alexander to the guest room so he can rest for a little. We need to fix his foot up again-” Mrs. Jefferson gave Alexander a pained look, “and he needs to catch up on sleep. I’ll bring him coffee.”

Mrs. Jefferson sighed before turning to the coffee pot. “Alright, boys. Alex, sweetie, rest up.” She smiled at him and then turned to fixing a new batch of coffee.

Thomas helped Alexander get back to their room- the faint scent of blood in the air was overwhelmed by the smell of vomit. Oh. Right. Alexander had forgotten about that. Just being in this room again made him whine in discomfort.

Without a word, Thomas turned them around and headed for one of the unoccupied guest rooms. It had two separate twin-sized beds and an attached bathroom. Alexander sat down on one of the beds and swung his foot up onto it, crossing it over himself to get a better look. Thomas kneeled on the floor in front of him and waited.

The next few minutes were spent cleaning and redressing the cuts on his foot, Thomas taking care to pick out a few tiny pieces that the other had missed. When Alexander’s foot was wrapped again, this time more neatly and securely, Thomas leaned forwards and pressed a barely-there kiss to the top of it over the gauze. Alexander couldn’t help the way he flushed and flinched at the same time, sitting back a bit farther on the bed. Thomas stood up and made for the kitchen, leaving Alexander on his own.

 _I can’t believe I’m this stupid,_ Alexander thought, curling up on his side, _I had to go and hurt myself and now his mom wants to know what happened. He’s gonna tell her, isn’t he? He’s gonna tell her and-_. He stopped short, not sure how the sentence would continue. Thomas said Elizabeth was trans, didn’t he? And if her own child was trans, wouldn’t she be willing to accept that her son’s boyfriend was too? He wasn’t sure of his own thoughts anymore. He just wanted to sleep- he briefly entertained the thought of not waking up but pushed it away when he realized what he was doing.

He wasn’t sure if he was willing to forgive Thomas just yet, but maybe he could start small. He tried to focus on the positive things they’d come by in the past week, but his thoughts kept running away from him until the only thing he could think was _stupid stupid stupid dumb idiot couldn’t even keep himself a secret for one fucking month pathetic piece of shit_.

˚ ·　　 ⊹ 　　　　 ✵ 　　. 　　　 ✦ * 　　　. ⊹ · 　 ✦ 　 　　 　 ⊹ ✹ · 　·

“Thomas Jefferson, I swear, if you don’t tell me what happened to that boy I’ll send you back to New York with one less pair of-”

“I can’t,” he interrupted her before she could finish, “It’s not my place to tell.”

She gave him a look that would kill a lesser man. He edged past her and grabbed a mug, filled it with coffee, and fixed it the way Alexander liked it because by God he was going to do something right for Alexander. 

Before he left to bring Alexander his coffee, he turned to look back at his mother. “Please, Ma’. This is something he needs to tell you. I can’t be the one to do it.” And with that, he turned around and headed for the guest room. 

Alexander was curled up and not moving, so Thomas assumed he was asleep. He sat down next to him and sighed, running a hand through his hair. He knew, in the front of his mind, that Alexander wasn’t going to forgive him easily. He’d fucked up, that much was apparent. He had broken the trust so delicately built up in the past week, shattered any semblance of friendship or tolerance or _anything_ they had. He had nobody to blame but himself.

He jumped a little when Alexander shifted in his sleep. Except he wasn’t asleep. And he was crying.

“Shit shit shit- Alexander, are you ok?” Thomas asked in a flurry of panic, leaping up off the bed and kneeling on the floor on the front-facing side of Alexander to make himself seem less imposing. Getting eye-level seemed to help things, usually. “Alexander? Alexander, please, say something.”

When he didn’t respond nor indicate that he’d heard Thomas at all, the latter’s panic level rose sharply. The smaller man’s shallow breaths became louder and quicker and his whole body was trembling. He was having a panic attack and Thomas was powerless to stop it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> im making more work for myselfffffffff why am i doing thisssssss  
> i was going to write a closing chapter and then an epilogue but then my brain was like "no apollo you need to vent all your negative feelings through alexander" so here we are, two extra chapters sitting in a google doc  
> at least thomas gets to redeem himself yay


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> alex has a bad time and thomas is there

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> MAJOR TW FOR:  
> SELF HATRED (there is some very self-targeted negative language that could be very upsetting. please read with caution !!)  
> SELF HARM  
> PLEASE BE SAFE !! <3

_Fucking idiot. Fucking pathetic idiot who can’t even keep to himself for a month. He doesn’t really care about you he just wanted you to stop bleeding on his bed and floor he just wanted you to stop crying. He’s pretending to like you so you’ll stop running away and his family’s getting suspicious because you can’t do anything right. Nice going, fucking dumbass._

Alexander gripped tightly at his hair, pulling a few strands loose in his effort to not scream. He needed something to hurt himself with and he needed it _now_. A glance around the room found him nothing and before he could rummage around in the bedside table drawer, he heard footsteps approaching. He laid back down on his side facing away from the door and ripped at the gauze on his hands, shoving it into his pocket. 

“Shit shit shit- Alexander, are you ok?” Thomas asked, panic setting into his voice and _its not real its not real he doesn’t care_. His breathing picked up and his shaking grew in intensity when Thomas spoke and continued when the taller man knelt down in front of him. 

He dug his nails into the open gashes on his palms and hissed in a breath. The pain helped ground him as he slowly rocked back and forth. Blood began to soak into the sleeves of his hoodie, the sight and feel causing him more distress. _Now Hercules hates you too. Can’t even have a breakdown right. Fucking pathetic_. 

“Alexander, fuck,” Thomas said from somewhere and- when did he get Alexander’s bag? In no time something soft was pressed to his chest: his comfort object. He immediately curled over it, minding his bloody hands. Later he’d have to remember to ask how Thomas even knew he had it _if Thomas doesn’t kick you out before that_. 

“Alexander. Are you with me?” Nothing. “Curl your toes if you can hear me.” A few seconds passed while Alexander forced himself to hear Thomas and process his request. The toes on his unbandaged foot twitched and this seemed to satisfy Thomas. “Good. Alexander, I’m going to stay here with you. I won’t leave, I promise.” _Empty promise empty promise he’s going to leave he’s going to laugh at you and leave_.

But he didn’t leave. Alexander didn’t know how long Thomas kneeled on the uncomfortable hardwood floor next to the bed or how long he himself laid there rocking and sobbing pathetically, but when he finally mustered enough energy to look up at Thomas, the orange glow from the sunset was shining through the window and painting his face in a warm light. He smiled a peace offering at Alexander even though he must look disgusting from crying and clawing at his face.

“Do you want to sit up?” Alexander nodded tiredly and tried with shaking arms to prop himself up to no avail. Thomas helped him steady himself and sat down a respectable distance away from him on the bed. “Do you want me to stay here?” Another nod. Alexander couldn’t trust himself to be alone. “Ok, I will, but I need to wrap your hands again. Is that ok?” Nod. “Ok, I need to get up, but I’m right here. I’m not leaving, I’m just going over here.”

Alexander let his gaze follow Thomas to the dresser where he pulled out a first aid kit from the bottom drawer. _Geez,_ he thought to himself, _what kind of accident prone family is this?_

Thomas returned to Alexander’s side and the latter obediently held his hands out when prompted. Thomas made sure to tell him whenever he was going to touch him or when something was going to sting or be tight. He couldn’t say he was used to the level of respect Thomas was showing him. Their relationship up until that fall had consisted of nothing but insults and non-stop arguing. Sometime around early October, though, Thomas started being nicer. Maybe this trip was the reason. Maybe Thomas genuinely felt bad about what he said.

Either way, the respect he was giving Alexander was, if anything, a bit uncomfortable. Only his closest friends and Washington were ever this gracious with him. 

When his hands were newly bandaged, Thomas took them in his own but paused for a moment. “May I?” he asked, locking eyes with Alexander. The smaller man nodded, not breaking eye contact as Thomas pressed a reverent kiss to his bandaged hands. Alexander flushed red and looked away when he pulled back.

Alexander tried to speak but instead a guttural choke came out. He looked to Thomas with pleading eyes and the Virginian pulled his phone out of his pocket and gave it to Alexander unlocked. He watched as he typed something hastily then turned the phone to face Thomas. 

_“i think im ready to tell your mom”_ the message read. 

“Are you sure? You’ve been through a lot today, she’ll be ok if you want to hold off until tomorrow.”

Alexander nodded and deleted what he’d written, typing out a new message: _  
"its ok itll be better for all of us if i tell her today. were going to monticello tomorrow anyway”_.

“Oh, right. Forgot.” Thomas laughed softly and stood, “Do you want me to bring her in here or do you want to go into the kitchen? I think Elizabeth’s back too. If you wanna talk to her, I mean.”

Alexander turned his head towards the door and nodded, indicating that he wanted to tell them in the kitchen. Thomas offered his arm to help Alexander stand, the smaller man still unsteady. When he was up and trusted himself on his own two feet, Thomas held out his hand palm-up. Alexander looked to Thomas to find him smiling fondly at him. He took his hand and they made their way to the kitchen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ok im gonna wrap it up soon bc i wanna start other stuff and i cant have two things to update at once i have a whole like page filled with ideas for fics so !! hopefully i can get some of that stuff out to you !! its... all jamilton btw ....... so ............. yeah  
> i do wanna do some poly/ot4+thomas stuff tho bc im weak so keep an eye out <3


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> alex tells the fam  
> this is super short im sorry :V

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> no tws cept maybe coming out?? if that triggers u dont read  
> oh yeah and all the awkward pauses and shortenings of alexs speech are there intentionally so read his speech as written with all its commas and periods and apostrophes as is. its supposed to be stagger-y and cut bc hes nervous and shit and. yeah okie dokie nice happy reading

“There they are,” Mrs. Jefferson said as the two walked hand-in-hand into the kitchen. Her eyes flicked to their clasped hands and then back up to meet Thomas’s eyes, “You ready to tell me what happened here?”

Thomas looked to Alexander and the smaller man swallowed. It was then or never, he knew, and the impulse to act was beginning to fade. Alexander turned to Thomas and nodded before mouthing “water”. Thomas let his hand hold onto Alexander’s for an extra second as he made for the sink and let it slip from his as he got out of range. He hoped it was a good sign that Alexander didn’t tug his hand away immediately and instead let it happen.

A few minutes later, Mrs. Jefferson, Elizabeth, and Big Lucy were seated in various chairs in the living room while Alexander practically sat in Thomas’s lap, hand clutched tightly between his own wrapped hands. His gaze was fixed on a point on the floor near Elizabeth’s bare feet.

“I, um,” Alexander began after a moment of silence, voice hushed and faintly raspy, “I need to tell you something. Important. I guess.” Thomas didn’t miss the look Elizabeth gave him and shook his head discreetly at her in response. Her eyes widened a hint in curiosity.

He continued, “This, ah, was something Thomas didn’t really know ‘til today, ‘cause ‘s not really something really anyone knows ‘cept John who’s my best friend ‘n I’ve known him for almost my whole life in America.”

He stopped to look up at the other three in the room. None of them seemed to show any malice or signs of interrupting so he swallowed again and went on.

“I’m,” a pause, “trans. Boy, I think. Kinda. I’m sorry-” he cut himself off and looked back into his lap again, a lump in his throat and tears pricking the corners of his eyes. He knew they’d be accepting (or at least, assumed) and he knew he had Thomas there for support. Regardless, the process was just as difficult as it had been when coming out to John, Lafayette, Hercules, or Washington. 

A hand was running slowly up and down his arm in a soothing manner, telling him “take your time.” He leaned a little more into Thomas and took a shuddering deep breath.

“I’m trans, and, Thomas um, didn’t find out the way he shoulda, but it’s ok ‘n I’m ok, I jus’, ah, needed to tell you, I think. ‘S why I didn’ really wanna say about my past or anything. ‘S not pretty.”

“May I speak?” Mrs. Jefferson asked. Alexander nodded. “Alexander, sweetheart, I want you to know that I speak for all of us when I say we completely support you. Elizabeth,” she pauses and looks to Elizabeth for permission which her daughter grants with a nod and small smile, “is also transgender. We’re here to help if there’s anything you need and if anybody so much as lays a finger on you, we’ll sic Thomas on them.” she gave a light laugh and smiled at Alexander.

The group chatted for a bit longer into the night, eventually deciding to order pizza due to a rather comical and well-timed growl of Alexander’s stomach. He realized he hadn’t eaten since breakfast which at that point in the night had been a good 12 hours prior. 

When the pizza arrived, he couldn’t eat it because of the wrappings on his hands and resigned to letting Thomas feed him. He made sure to convey with his expression that he was _not enjoying this one bit_ and at one point refused to open his mouth until Thomas stopped smirking and holding back giggles.

It wasn’t until around midnight that everybody had retired to bed. Somebody had put fresh sheets on the queen-sized bed in the guest room and sprayed something that eliminated any and all whiffs of blood. For the first night since they’d come to Virginia, Alexander willingly settled close to Thomas and let him wrap gentle arms around his frame. Tomorrow they could talk about this, talk about boundaries, talk about what the heck was happening with them. For tonight, though, they’d sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yay yay yay  
> u cn find me @ autisticgod on tumblr and @ mastertactLcLan on twitter  
> ill be wrapping this up in two more chapters !! next chapter will b boundaries and some super gay fluff and then the last will be an epilogue of sorts  
> lmk if u see mistakes or anything


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